


Reason For Waiting

by Backpfeifengesichts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, John Finally Gets Over Mary, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backpfeifengesichts/pseuds/Backpfeifengesichts





	Reason For Waiting

Sherlock isn't sure what's brought over this change but he's eternally grateful for it.

 

John comes over one night sans wedding ring, smelling of scotch and sweat and the spicy musk that is John Watson, and grabs Sherlock from where he's perched on his stool looking at some slides.

 

Sherlock gasps as he's hauled up and into a pair of strong arms. John presses a deep, demanding kiss onto Sherlock's soft pink lips that open immediately without thought, his body falling limp against John's chest as if it were second nature to do so. Sherlock whimpers as broad hands reach around to encircle Sherlock's waist, pulling him as close as possible, and he's opening up, giving up and into all of John's demanding, plundering tongue and hungry, relentless teeth.

 

 

John's hot magnificent mouth pulls away from a detective gasping for air and starts sweeping across his lips and jaw, biting everything he can, afternoon stubble rasping over Sherlock's smooth cheek with a welcome burn. He travels to Sherlock's long thin neck and Sherlock's mouth is leaking constant little little panting noises punctuated by the odd high pitched keen at the flashes of pain. He's shuddering and then melting to it all, tilting his head back to allow better access.

 

He hears a low rumbled growl of frustration coming from John's chest and Sherlock's heart panics, worries he's done something wrong, something to push John away again. Then the hands around his middle begin running up Sherlock's torso, yanking and tearing at Sherlock's posh little clothes, wanting to get the brunette as naked as possible, as fast as possible, and he keens as his clothes are torn asunder. 

 

Sherlock clings to it. He craves it. Suddenly coming out of his trance to realize he can touch John as well and he does. He reaches to map and caress those broad muscled shoulders and chest, part of him still not believing this. 

 

 

Sherlock doesn't want this to stop, not any of it, wants to take it as far as John is willing, but some distant fear, his greatest one, draws the words from his throat unbidden.

 

"John is this? A-are you-" Sherlock asks breathy and embarrassingly needy. 

 

He's trembling. Violently. If this is a drug induced dream, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamed up situations that brought him to similar heights, let him wake from it quickly. Let him not suffer a greater loss if this goes on and but ultimately doesn't stay real.

 

"Yes." John snarls. He sounds angry, furious even. The single word is spoken dark and firm, an affirmation John wants this and that's all Sherlock's heart needs to not burst from his chest. 


End file.
